Breaking the Countryman duck

Hadn't driven the Countryman before, so arranged a swap with keeper Mark Fagelson. It's a curious beast: all standing on tiptoes, familiar Mini motifs stretched into alien shapes, not all of them pleasant. I tried to cast aside much of the hate campaign, I really did. But it was still difficult to approach the Countryman with total neutrality.

Part of the problem lies in the curious package on offer. This car is 4097mm long – on a par with your typical supermini – so its boot is just 350 litres. Which makes life difficult for photographer Fagelson with his myriad boxes, rigs, bags and lengths of scaffolding. They call it the first four-seater Mini, and they're right: space is plentiful in the back seats, but the flipside is that the boot is slightly pathetic. Wouldn't you just buy a Golf estate or Panda 4x4, depending on your priorities of passengering and mud-slinging?

CAR’s long-term test Mini Countryman is an All4 equipped diesel Cooper and seems over-specced with 4wd. The basic FWD Mini hatches only struggle for traction in JCW form, so why should this chunky derv model need all-corner drive? Marketing waffle, I suspect (unless you live in hilly/snowy climes, accepted).

Still, you could level much of the above at the Mini 4x4's competitors. I drove CAR's Skoda Yeti more than most and came to love it. How so? The 300-litre boot felt more accommodating despite the figures and the Skoda's cabin was more premium too – I'm increasingly finding the Countryman's cockpit places cool over can-do. It's an ergonomic mess: you never look at the massive central speedo, whose ‘epicyclic’ needle helpfully obscures your speed and minor buttons are scattered everywhere.

The Countryman's not a complete disaster zone. Once you set off, you quickly realise they've kept the Mini zest intact. The steering is pointy and keen, making the Countryman an athletic partner, and while the ride is fidgety on urban bumps, it settles down nicely at higher speeds when you've snuck that trad Mini gearbox up to sixth. I suspect in petrol guise, or wanton Cooper S spec, the Countryman would drive phenomenally, whereas the diesel feels sporty but never quite delivers the thrills suggested by the chassis.

It's a curious beast, our Countryman. Wannabe hot hatch, yet with a 1.6 diesel that struggles to feel pacey with all that extra heft. The more practical Mini whose boot will struggle to match the load capacity of many small estates. And a poser's interior where the mask is just beginning to slip. I love most of the new Mini generation , but reckon the Countryman might not have quite hit the spot.

<source> carmagazine.co.uk

The McLaren’s brilliant :MP4-12C

The new McLaren MP4-12C is brilliant. Quite brilliant. No supercar more skilfully combines speed, agility, thrilling power – the usual supercar staple – and the automotive flip side (comfort, refinement, all-round usability, ease-of-driving). It is a technical tour de force, the most compelling mix of speed and composure I can remember. Rather as I expected. With McLaren, expectations run Everest-high.

What’s more, those areas in which small volume high-performance makers usually struggle – cabin quality springs to mind – just isn’t a problem. In fact, the MP4-12C has one of the best supercar interiors I’ve sat in, not least because it’s so lacking in clutter. It’s a notch above the Ferrari 458 in quality, way better than any top-end 911 in ergonomics and driving position. It even has tolerably good over-the-shoulder visibility, a bugbear of mine (and quite appalling on most Italian supercars).

Superb at fuss-free high-speed performance

Particularly impressive is its unerring precision and composure on winding, undulating, variably cambered roads – surfaces on which Ferraris and Porsches require maximum concentration and a firm hand.

It’s a good long haul car. The mechanical wail and road thrum that invariably supplement Ferrari (and even Porsche) mileage is largely muted. It’s more a Grand Tourer, than a mid-engine hyperactive hypercar, on the long haul stuff; you can relax, enjoy the radio, phone a friend.

Faults, there are a few…

It’s not perfect. The touch sensitive door handles are a nerdy complication. I repeatedly ran my hand under the door lip expecting those scissor doors to spring into action. Often, they remained as firmly shut as a pair of rusty old carvers. Please, give me a button or a handle. McLaren owners will have to go through Masonic hand rituals to gain access to their chargers, no doubt to the considerable amusement of onlookers.

The paddle shifts are too stiff and require too much effort. They need to be finger light, to facilitate instant changes. Plus I don’t like the way they rock, to and fro like a see-saw, yoked in the middle. I prefer two separate paddles.

My only other quibble – and this is much harder to quantify – is that the MP4-12C, despite its unfazed composure and its monumental acceleration, is sometimes just a little too calm and collected, even detached. It almost feels like a virtual reality supercar at times, so brilliantly does it cushion and isolate. A good Ferrari, on the other hand, is far more engaged. It isn’t so much in your face, as halfway down your throat.

A touch of drama can be good for supercars. The inspiring bellow of a Ferrari exhaust; the instant kick of a frisky normally aspirated V8 or V12 (rather than the McLaren’s tidal wave of not-quite-spontaneous turbo torque); the quick edgy steering of the 458. The best Ferraris, Porsches and Lamborghinis serve up more sensory delights. They dance with you, serenade you. McLaren doesn’t do irrational very well.

This ‘criticism’ – more of an observation – will not overly concern those perfectionists from Woking. McLaren did not seek drama. The priorities were huge speed. And prodigious, no-fuss capability. It’s a different approach from the supercar mainstream and, to many, a far more meritorious one.
<source> carmagazine.com